260 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
lUainng for % f otntg. 
BABY-LAND. 
“ How many miles to Baby-land ?” 
“ Any one can tell, 
Up one flight, 
To your righc; 
Please to ring the bell.” 
« What can you see in Baby-land f” 
" Little folks in white— 
Downy heads, 
Cradle bedB, 
Faces jiure and bright!" 
" What do they do in Baby-land ?" 
“Dream and wake and play. 
Laugh and crow. 
Shout and grow; 
Jolly times have they !" 
“ What do they say in Baby land ?” 
“ Why, the oddest things; 
Might ns well 
Try to tell 
What a birdie sings !" 
" Who is the queen of Baby-land 
" Mother, kind and sweet; 
And her love, 
Born above, 
(iuides the little feet.” 
I Hartford Times. 
--- 
DIFFERENT VIEWS. 
BY A. K. K. 
“ Dkar, dear, what can it all mean ?" cackled 
the plump, fussy Mother Goose, glancing round 
at the same time to see if her goslings were safe 
round her. 
“All that from an Insignificant, little brown 
bird 1" gabbled a pert Drake, who, because be 
had a golden gleam on his white feathers, gave 
himself great airs, and set up as an authority on 
all kinds of subjects. 
“ What In the world do you want, litt le bird?” 
again said the Goose, addressing the singer, a 
Lark In a wire-cage, which hnd been placed by 
the Child, Its owner, on a sunny bank close to I he 
water, that Its heart might be cheered by the 
glad song of the stream, flowing past MiHd the 
flowery Helds. And «he Child sat by, lialf-dre.am- 
Ing, half-listening. Bui the gladness only stirred 
the Lark to sorrowful longing, and its wild song 
went up into the blue, sunny sky, whither It would 
fain have followed. 
“ 1 wont to be free, to soar Into the wide sky!” 
sighed the poor little Lark. 
“Dear, dear, what u strange fancy I” said the 
Goose. “ I never want to soar Into the sky; why 
should one, with everything comfortable In the 
Helds, and on tlic stream ?" 
“All nonsense!” pronounced the Drake, se¬ 
verely. 
“ You do not k now the joy of using your wings!” 
urged the Lark, plaintively. 
“Stuff!” said the Drake. “Childish folly, and 
not hlng else! I used to have some such Ideas my¬ 
self before l grew wise enough to prefer the solid 
ground and Hrin water to empty air. But I have 
seeu enough of what that leads to among my 
cousins, the Wild Ducks, who taunt, me. forsooth, 
with my Idleness In not using my wings as they 
do, In their ridiculous journeys over land and sea, 
when they might setup down respectably lh the 
farm-yard ! I know heller than that, I'm thank- 
ful to say l” 
Here the stately Swan floated up to the group, 
looking, as Ids white plumage glistened against 
the blue water, so like one of the fleecy cloudlets 
in the blue sky, that the Lark was stirred at the 
sight Into a fresh burst of song’ and of longing. 
The Swan sailed close to the Lark, and bending 
his long nook caressingly over the cage, murmur¬ 
ed In his softest tone, “ Poor, foolish, little bird, 
wasting your breat h over that which you cannot 
reach,—learn our lesson! We too have wings, 
but we see the folly of vatu efforts to reach the 
sun, and have learned to content ourselves with 
what wo can get. And It. Is enough, for 11 you 
only knew the joy of boating wlLU tliu stream, 
the rest, it, is to be borne smoothly post the wav¬ 
ing reeds and smiling ilower-s to Unger among 
the gleaming water-lilies, and rejoice In the 
warm sunshine, you would never long for more!" 
“But 1 could not float with the stream. I 
should be drawn down into t he cold waters 1” said 
the Lark. 
“Poor creature, he positively cannot swim I” 
said the Drake, with a pitying air. “ What could 
you expect from a bird who cannot swim ?” 
“1 can fly,” said the Lark. “ That would con¬ 
tent me.” 
“Don't be impertinent!’’ snapped the Drake. 
“ We must know better than you. for we can 
walk on dry land, uud we could have flown It we 
had chosen to do It; but we e.au swim too, which 
you can’t do, so we must be able to understand 
tilings better than you can. To set yourself up 
because you cau fly, indeed! We all have rela¬ 
tions who Hy, and our ancestors all did so till 
they grew wiser, and chose the solid comfort of 
the larm-yard rather than the uncertainties of 
vague flights In the air. If you are wise, you’ll 
follow our example!” 
“But the Wild Swans, Wild Geese and Wild 
Ducks fly away to sufinler lands through the long 
cold winters!” said the Lurk. 
“And half of them never come back!” sneered 
the Drake; “ much good Is that to them! Weary¬ 
ing flights and the chance of losing yourself hi 
the clouds, or dropping dead Into the sea 1” 
“ Our sheltered life is certainly Incomparably 
superior to the uncertain joys of what the Lark 
calls freedom,” observed the Swan. “ For my 
part, I never could regret the choice of my pa¬ 
rents, and their wise counsels to me." 
“ 1 can’t see much good In t he sunshine of which 
the Lark sings so much; It never makes any dif¬ 
ference to me!” said the Goose. “ While as to 
the flowers, 1 must say that I very much prefer 
good grass and stubble."’ 
“1 know what flowers are!” Interposed, a fresh 
spoftker, a tame Haven, who had Joined the 
group. "I was once deceived by tbclr bright 
colors Into thinking 1 had found a treasure. 
But they turned to dust and dry stalks when 1 
hid them away. Nothing better than that,, T as¬ 
sure you!” 
The Raven was a bird of mark, greatly respecter! 
by all the Inhabitants of the farm-yard. There 
were strange Blorh s or his wealth; he was known 
to lose no chance of adding to bis Stores, and as 
no one ever knew what he did with there trea¬ 
sures, there was a mystery about, them which 
added to tbclr value. Ills wisdom, too, Wits un¬ 
deniable, and t,hs two things gave him an influ¬ 
ence which quite weighed against Ids black and 
rugged plum ago, even In the eyes of the whitest, 
of the community, who all prided themselves on 
the spotlessness of their feathers, and would 
have nothing to say to any bird without, u colored 
feather, unless. Indeed, there was some very 
strong reuson tor an exception In Its favor. 
" Very true,” agreed the Goose and the Drake. 
The Swan did not quite agree, tor ho thought 
that flowers were very well In tnelr proper 
place, and, Indeed, gave an additional charm to 
life. 
“And us for the sunshine,” continued the 
H>.ven. “it Is very uncertain. Those clouds 
uow that look so bright are really only mist and 
vapor, quite cold and damp. I know all about It, 
for when 1 was young I could fly with the best. 
I was, Indeed, foolish enough to lament at first, 
when my w ings were clipped by the Old Woman; 
but now, of course, I cau estimate the superiority 
of the farm-yard to the woods; and walking, 
after all, Is easier than flying, besides being 
safer.” 
Much clapping ul wings and fluttering applause 
followed this speech; but the Lark, turning to 
the Haven, Said: 
“ You are Indeed In be pitied, sluce you can no 
longer use your wings; but that Is not so with 
these other birds, who might fly If they would 
take the trouble, Ahl believe me, If you had but 
once risen Into t he pure air of heaven, you would 
never again talk or the Joy of walking on the 
earth, or of floating with the stream !" 
The storm of Indignation which he excited was 
almost too much for the poor Lark to bear. On 
all skies be was assailed. 
“ The Impertinence of a little brown thing like 
that presuming to advise us I” exclaimed the 
Drake, setting up bis leathers t ill the gold shone 
again. 
“ This, then, comes of soaring In the air; that 
you pretend fo know better than people who 
live respectably, and teach their children to do 
the same 1 A re you not ashamed of yourseif ?” 
said t h© Goose. 
“You have no right to any sort of opinion or 
your own!" said the Haven. “ It has been your 
privilege to be admitted into our society, and, 
therefore, our opinions ought to be yours. The 
old Woman certainly disapproves of flying, or 
my wings would not have been cut; and who are 
you, to dtfTer from her?” 
“ As If you could be wiser than the Swans, 
who arc so graceful and splendid!" said the 
Drake. 
“or than the Goose, who Is so much larger 
than you are !” added the Haven. 
"The poor thing knows no better!” said the 
swan, with condescending kindness. “But how 
should he, for he Is only a stranger among us! 
We shall soon be able to convince him of his mis¬ 
take.” 
“Listen to that!” said the Raven to the Lark. 
“ If you will take my advice, which is not without 
some small w eight, If I may venture to say so,”— 
here the others all loudly assented— 1 " you will 
certainly give up these notions. Perhaps the 
Old Woman may clip your wings, and then you 
will come out and be quite like one of ns.” 
“ l would rather beat myseli to death against 
the bars of my cage!” exclaimed the Lark, pas¬ 
sionately. 
“ Don’t Interrupt!” conttuued the Haven, 
calmly. “ such excitement is ill-bred, to say the 
least id it. As i was saying, your wings may be 
clipped, but In any case you may adopt our 
views; and 1 w T ould add, that in the first place 
you had better give up that habit of slnglDg; it 
is useless and unpractical; beside, none of us 
sing, and It. therefore Jars against our feelings." 
“Very good, indeed!” said all but the Lark, 
who murmured that he saug because he could 
not help It. 
“That Is nonsense," replied the Haven; “we 
can help singing, and of course you can, too. 
You may adopt some of our tones Instead; I’m 
sure I shall be happy to teach you to croak.” 
“Or I to Jitss,” said the Goose; echoed In softer 
touts by the «wan. 
“ lie might learn to quack. If he likes, the ducks 
do It fast enough, so It can't be difficult," said the 
Drake. 
“ You hear these kind offers,” said the Haven. 
“ Think It over, and make yourself happy about 
It.” 
The Lark was almost heari-broken, for he felt 
so lonely among the- self-satlsfled birds ; but he 
mustered courage to thank them tor their offers, 
and at the same tune to reject them. “It he did 
noi sing,” he said, “he must die, lor It was his 
only solace, now that he was no longer rree.” 
Louder still rose the storm of anger and scorn, 
till the whole party floated away In great state, 
prophesying evil things of the Lark ; while the 
Raven pausing till they were out of hearing, sent 
after them a croak of derision, saying to the 
Lark, before he hopped away, “ If you wish to get 
out Into the world, frankness like yours won’t do, 
my friend ! Y’ou must keep your fancies to your¬ 
self ; I do; and see bow all respect roe. Do you 
think I don’t w ant, to fly ? Of course 1 do ; but I 
can’t now. and so I make the best of It, and hu¬ 
mor the whims of these foolish birds, who are too 
gross or too Idle to use the wings they possess I" 
The Lark said nothing, but when the Raven 
was gone, he broke out, Into a yet fuller burst, of 
aspiration and desire, w hile the Child, who, lying 
In the sunshine, had heard all the birds' chatter, 
still lay and lls. ened, and mused, wondering how 
It could be that creatures with wings could be 
content never bo use them, but to stay on the dull 
cartli, when the bright sky wooed them to its 
Joys. Then, os he mused, he too longed for wings, 
that he might soar awe.y into the fathomless blue 
Into which he gazed. And with that, he felt that 
in this desire lie must be like the Lark, long for a 
freedom and a joy beyond his narrow life. Might 
It, not be that he also had wings, which he had 
never used V Could it be that he also had hidden 
wings, lying rolded away, and might he not some 
day spread them and soar into the wide heavens? 
Full of lids new thought, he pondered Dll ho 
was sure that It must be so, and now he knew 
why the Bongot the Lark was sad to ldtn ; why he 
turned from the endless surging of the great 
ocean: why the slglilrig or the night-winds made 
him look yearningly on the bright stars ; was it 
not that each and all awoke the desire to spread 
these hidden wings or his ? And might, not, this 
desire, uow that he knew It, give him the power 
that he lacked ? 
That, night, as the Old Woman gave him his 
supper, he ventured to Ray to her: “ Have you 
any wings folded away under your dress ? Don't 
you wau'tto fly, Uko the I.ark ?” 
“ Nonsense, Child, eat your supper!" said the 
Old Woman. “ What fane.es do come Into his 
head, to be sure 1” 
The Child was silent, but not disheartened. He 
thought that perhaps It, was so long since the 
Old Woman had used her wings, that she hud In¬ 
deed forgotten all about them. 
The next day when he went Into the Helds with 
the Farmer, be asked him the same question. The 
man only laughed, and bade him keep tbe cowsoul 
of the corn-field. 
The Child felt that, there was no help Here. But, 
he comforted himself with the thought that,until 
now, he had known nothing about the wings, and 
that, consequently, it. might be quite possible for 
people to have tnem, and yet not to know of them, 
Now, more than ever, he rejoiced In the Lark's 
song, and he questioned his darling bird how he 
might And Ids wings ; but the Lark could not an¬ 
swer him. and could only slog or the joy or free¬ 
dom, and ut flight in tho sunny air, Mil the child 
felt, he could no longer w I thliold rrom it the liberty 
for which It sighed; although very sorrowful to 
him was the thought ol losing this Ills only com¬ 
fort, for he knew that without, the Lark he should 
be lonely indeed. 
Hut with tears or tender farewell, ho opened the 
door of the cage, and bade the Lark go. For a 
moment it paused-tt wings quivering with the 
thrill of Its new-found freedom—and then It be¬ 
gan Its Joyous ascent, singing, as U rose, a song 
such as the Child had never before heard, so deep 
and full was Its rejoicing. As It died away In the 
far distance, the Child heard it, cease with scarce 
a sigh, for deep la his heart, like a sweet echo or 
music, was a calm assurr.uioe that one day he loo 
should spread hts wings and Hud himself tree. 
Henceforward his desire was no longer a vague 
longlDg, It was a certain hope, and thus In giving 
up his dearest, treasure he louud a response to his 
questioning which continued possession would 
never have given, and he was content to think 
only gratefully, and not regretfully, of his lost 
joy. 
W i u s lfr - 
HIDDEN LAKES. 
1. Bob, all 1 love Is gone. 
•z. Poor thing! A mite was her gift. 
3. Sara, to gabble Is absurd. 
l. At tlie picnic, ham, plainly cooked, was nice. 
6. Theresa rau a chase. 
6. Tom Htnphre! Ma, go get, his coat. 
7. A Hake of the wood stuck In my eye. 
8. Diipout, chart, rain aud darkness stopped us. 
9 . Away in Tuseho, Dick tell sick. 
10 . 1 was a t a masked ball. 
11. Why not engage Neva? 
tw~ Answer In two weeks. Little One. 
STAR PUZZLE. 
i. A state of South America. 2. A city of India. 
3 . A river of New Y ork. 4. A city of India. Ar¬ 
range as a star. 
tsr Answer In two weeks. Balto. 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.-Oct. 6. 
Cross-word Enigma.—I xion. 
Pyramid Puzzle.— 
p 
CAM 
CASCO 
RUSSIAN 
BANGALORE 
POLITICALLY 
PYROTECHNISTS 
THE CHARGE OF THE ANGEL. 
“ He shall srive hie angels charge o’er thee," 
Are our Saviour’s words to you and me. 
We wrap ourselves in clouds of doubt and fear. 
Nor see the angel form standing- near. 
Our deaden'd ears hear not—in sweet, low tone, 
O soul, believe, thou art not alone ! 
Beside us, thro’ life’s paths they kindly walk, 
Guiding, holding, lest we fall or halt. 
Our hearts, absorbed in earth's stern toils for wealth, 
Keel not, nor know their dear clasp of strength. 
We—pilgrims of a day—Just pause to greet 
A moment; then on, our God to meet! 
With torch of faith, clouds will disappear; 
In nis sunlight know no doubt nor fear; 
Kor his loving angels will us surround. 
Nor leave ns till in Paradise we’re found. 
WELL-ORDERED DAILY LIFE. 
The following notes were copied by Burnet 
from Hale’s manuscript, “ In the same simplicity 
In which he writ It for his own private use 
Mnmin(/, —I. To lilt up the heart to God In 
thankfulness for renewing my life. II. To renew 
my covenant with God In Christ. <l), By renewed 
acts of faith, receiving Christ and rejoicing In the 
bight, of that relation. (2). Hesolutlon of being 
one ol His people, doing Him allegiance. HI. Ad¬ 
oration and prayer. IV. Setting a watch over my 
own infirmities and passions, over the snares laid 
In our way. 
Day Eniploymenl. —There must be an employ¬ 
ment—two klnds:—l. our ordinary calling, to 
serve God in It,. Jt Is a service to Christ, though 
never so mean (Col. lit.) Here lallhfulness, dili¬ 
gence, cheerfulness. Not to overlay myself with 
more business t han I can bear. 11. Our spiritual 
employments. Mingle somewhat of God’s Imme¬ 
diate service In this day. 
Refreshments.— I. Meat and drink, uioderatlan, 
seasoned with somewhat of God. II. Recreations: 
(1). Notour business; (2). Suitable; no games, It 
given to covetousness or passion. 
If atone— l. Iteware of wandering, vain, lustful 
thoughts; fly from thyself rather than entertain 
these, ll. Let thy solitary thoughts be prolltable; 
view the evidences of thy salvation, the state or 
thy soul, the coming of Christ, thy own mortali¬ 
ty : It will make thee humble and watchful. 
company, Bo good to them. Use God's name 
reverently. Beware of leaving an ill impression 
or 111 example. Receive good from them If more 
knowing. 
Eveniny .—Cast up the accounts of the day. If 
aught amiss, beg pardon. Gather resolution of 
more vigilance. If well, bless the mercy and 
grace of God that hath supported thee. 
WHY FOUR GOSPELS 1 
BY M. K. D. 
Because God, In Ills goodness, designed to give 
us four distinct views of the character of Christ. 
lu Matthew our blessed saviour Is portrayed to 
the Jews as •* the Ylesstab that should come.” 
Here we have more quotations from the Old Tes¬ 
tament than In any of the other gospels, and the 
tultllmerit ol' prophecy Is constantly referred to. 
In Mark, Jesus Is presented as “the faithful 
Servant.” We tlnd here no genealogy, and never 
hear Him laying down In form the principles or 
Ills kingdom, ills disciples never address him as 
Lord, aud only once do we hear him appeal to 
God as Ills Father, and that Is when lie Is in the 
garden of Gcthsemane, and Ills day of service Is 
ended. 
In Luke, our Lord Is shown as " the Sion of man." 
We have His genealogy even beyond Abraham to 
Adam. While lie Is Aral presented to the Jews, 
He also Illustrates the set ting aside of the Jewish 
system, and the arrival of the time when “ all 
flesh shall see the salvation or God.” 
In John, Jesus the Christ Is presented as the 
8ou of God. We have no genealogy, but are car¬ 
ried back to tho beginning, when He was with 
God. lie Is represented as God manifested In the 
flesh. In this gospel especially we are made aware 
of the personal presence of the Holy Ghost. 
In these four distinct portraitures or our blessed 
Lord, we witness the beautiful wisdom and lov¬ 
ing condescension of our merciful God, who, 
though clothed in the majesty of heaven, yet 
stoops to explain and adapt himself to the flniu 
comprehension and limited faculties of Hls crea¬ 
ture man. 
--♦♦♦- 
GOLDEN MAXIMS. 
Oct. 14. Prayer Is the weak man's refuge, aud 
the strong man's hope :—Its power opens the 
heavens, and closes the yawning of t he pit.— J. 
B. B, Clark. 
Oct. 15. As one who carries gunpowder would 
not wish to be where sparks are flying, lest he 
should be destroyed; so should we carefully 
avoid such places aud company as may lead us 
Into sin.— Boston, 
Oct. ie. All Christians should be living temples 
aud spiritual priests, dedicated to the honor of 
God, aud employed In Ids service.— it. Henry. 
OCT. 17. Religion would have no enemies, If Itself 
were not an enemy to vl w,—Massillon. 
Oct. is. Wu may lose the whole of our worldly 
property, and yet be rich; but U we lose our souls, 
the world, though gained In lieu ol them, Is but 
an insignificant toy .—P- M'Owen. 
Out. 19. As well might, the chemist hope for a 
universal elLxlr from the polluted water of a 
staguant lake, as mankind expect from earthly 
things the light and bliss ol their immortal 
souls.—Dr. Beaumont. 
oct. 20. It Is easy to wish for heaven, but hard 
to get a heavenly mind.— Mrs. H. Moore. 
